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It’s amazing how a few glasses of wine can make a work place Christmas party the best thing since… well, last year’s shitty Christmas party. And by a few glasses of wine I mean a bottle… and by a bottle I actually mean two. And if we are being honest here, I should also mention the $7 glass of vodka too.

My boyfriend’s work had their Christmas party (or is the politically correct term these days “Festive Winter Seasonal Get-to-gether”? I don’t even know anymore), think of a ballroom at a very swank golf course filled with electricians, their wives, and one very wealthy owner who paid to fly in from the States the special guest ventriloquist. Yes, a ventriloquist – complete with creepy puppets, and I kid you not, a Christian theme. Luckily for me, the boyfriend’s best friend’s girlfriend was there to join me in the misery, as well as our good friend free house wine. The waitress kept bringing us more bottles and asking if we wanted more – I guess she saw the look of desperation on our faces – but more than likely she just felt sorry for us.

waitress: “another bottle of white?”

me: “why not… can you bring me a straw with that one?”

her: blank stare

me: “a slurpee straw should be long enough for the bottle”

My boyfriend had given up on me at that point and just went to talking to his co-workers, hoping I would not make a fool of myself, or perhaps so he could ignore my tipsy remarks under my breath about a man with his hand up a puppet’s ass making it sing about Jesus.

Before the event my boyfriend was made aware as to why the owner of the company only had the bar open for about 30 minutes the whole night. Apparently a few years ago one of the guys had brought an escort as his date who got completely sloshed and started a full on fight with the owner’s wife. I guess liquor was attributed to this (and possibly the devil), and booze was limited there-after. As well as escorts, I can only imagine.

boyfriend to co-workers: “This is my lovely girlfriend, Marie”

co-worker: “Nice to meet you! We were starting to think this girlfriend he talked about was make-believe, based on all the purple he wears and his queer car” (foot note: my boyfriend loves to wear pink and purple, and has a very large shift knob in his car that could be easily mistaken for a dildo – true story)

me: “oh, nice to meet you too. You can call me his girlfriend as long as his check clears after the end of the night”

boyfriend: “I hate you so much”

As the night progressed and the ventriloquist carried on singing sunday school hymns with his puppets, the wine kept flowing and he definitely got better. At one point I mentioned to my friend how this hymn sounded like my personal favourite and number 1 hit on the Billboard charts when I was born “Total Eclipse of the Heart” (you do the math…). In hindsight, I don’t know how “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart” could possibly sound similar to that infamous rock ballad, but at the time, it was spot on.

Friend: “I love Total Eclipse of the Heart!! I wonder what my #1 hit song is?”

Me: “What year were you born?”

Friend: “1991”

Me: “…. God I am old… I am pretty sure I have a top hits of ’91 tape… oh god, you probably don’t even know how to use a tape player… or how to use an HB pencil to rewind one when they…. . . never mind…”

And that is the story of how I am far too old for any one’s good. And then I drank more.

I never did get my straw — talk about shitty service.